Sammy In Captivity
by Menthol Pixie
Summary: Jason watches as the Keeper's bring in the new kid. Outsider POV.
1. Chapter 1

**Sammy In Captivity**

**Summary: Jason watches as the Keeper's bring in the new kid. Outsider POV.**

**A/N: Title taken from 'Margaret In Captivity' by the Decemberists. Big thanks to SecondStarToTheRight18 for her help with editing. =D**

**I should probably warn for, maybe not this chapter but future ones, swearing, torture, violence, non-consensual nudity, non-consensual 'experiments'... Basically, if you've read my stuff you know that I can go dark so just read with caution.**

**Reviews are love.**

XXX

_I have snipped your wingspan  
My precious captive swan  
Here all clipped of kickstand  
Your spirit won't last long _

**"Margaret In Captivity"** ~ The Decemberists

Jason watches as the Keepers bring in the new kid.

He isn't supposed to watch. He's supposed to be in his room. The other kids are behind locked doors, always behind locked doors unless it's their turn, but no one really bothers locking Jason in. He guesses that the Keepers assume that what he sees gets lost in the tangle of his mind. It doesn't. He never tries to leave. Usually he only watches through his slightly ajar door and he's seen what happens when someone tries to run.

A new kid is different though. It doesn't happen often that the Keepers find one that meets their criteria, whatever that is, and it's boring in his room so now he's crouched on the little balcony of the second floor; designated Living Quarters. _Cells_ would be more appropriate. There are three small rooms on each side, all opening up onto the balcony that surrounds the first floor; Experimentation.

Jason watches through the gaps in the railings where he can get a good view of what's happening below him. He's been waiting here for three hours and 14 minutes, since the Keepers left, because he overheard them saying that they were bringing in a new specimen and a new kid is pretty much the only vaguely exciting thing that happens here.

The new kid is a boy. He kicks and flails and makes muffled screaming sounds against the duct tape that sticks his mouth closed, but there are four Keepers and each of them has an arm or a leg in a firm grip and fighting gets him nowhere. None of the kids here get anywhere except the Chair no matter what they do.

The Chair isn't a regular chair, with four legs and a straight back, or like an armchair, soft and squishy. It's more like the chair in the little room his mother took him to a few times, where a man with gray hair and big hands used a tiny mirror to look at his teeth. He didn't like it.

But this Chair is kind of like that chair, except this one is bigger and it's black and gray instead of white and it has straps for wrists and waist and ankles and forehead. It sits in the middle of a semi-circle of equipment; a small table, a covered sterile waste bin, a large set of drawers filled with needles and syringes and tubes and all kinds of other things, three monitors that look like TV screens but never play shows or movies are on one side and a computer sits on a desk near the semi-circle's opening.

It's a horrible Chair. Jason doesn't like it.

The new kid doesn't seem to like it either because he tries real hard to stop the Keepers from strapping him into it, arching his back and kicking and trying to tear his arms free. The Keepers grunt instructions to each other as they struggle to co-ordinate their efforts, growing more and more frustrated as time passes and the kid shows no signs of giving in.

It's a bad idea to try to stop the Keepers from doing anything because the Keepers always get their way and the more a kid resists, the longer they end up staying in the little closet the Keepers call Solitary.

Jason wonders if they'll put the new kid in Solitary for fighting so hard. Pretty much every new kid fights but none of them have taken this long to get strapped in.

Finally, the girl Keeper with the soft voice that doesn't match her face manages to tighten the strap around the boy's right wrist. With one arm held down the boy can't get as much momentum in his swings and the Keeper with the ginger beard and thinning ginger hair quickly straps his other wrist.

This is when most new kids stop fighting. There's not much you can do once you've lost the ability to unstrap yourself even if you did manage to throw the Keepers off.

As expected, the kid goes limp, chest heaving. Then the girl Keeper kneels down to strap his ankles and his leg shoots out and boots her hard in the face, knocking her backwards.

An explosion of shouting makes Jason cover his ears and close his eyes. He doesn't like it when they yell. He counts to 30 and when he opens his eyes the Keepers have buckled the ankle and waist straps. The girl Keeper wipes some blood from her nose to the back of her hand before she straps the boy's forehead so he's held completely immobile in the Chair.

The Keepers leave him there as they approach the large set of drawers. The bearded Keeper hands out doctors' gowns, masks and gloves before dressing himself in the items. The boy watches them with wide eyes, chest still jerking up and down like he can't breathe properly. Jason remembers his own chest doing that when the Keepers first brought him here, before he learned not to panic, not to resist. He watches as the boy tugs on the straps. There's no give. No one ever gets out of The Chair before the Keepers want them to.

The four adults return to the Chair in their costumes. Jason has never understood why they pretend to be doctors when they're not. He's been to see doctors and they're really nice and gentle and quiet. The Keepers aren't any of those things.

It can be hard to tell them apart when they're in their gowns and hats and masks. One of the men is easy, his blond hair tied up in a ponytail down his back. He sits down at the computer and starts typing. The bearded Keeper is bigger than the others, taller and wider. It's the girl and the young man who are easy to mix up. Both are slim with short dark hair that pokes out of their hats. The young one has a nicer face but that doesn't help when only their eyes are visible.

The bearded Keeper and the one Jason thinks is the young Keeper have brought two huge pairs of scissors from one of the drawers. They each take a side and pull off the boys shoes and socks before, starting from the ankle of the boy's jeans, they begin cutting off the new kid's clothes, slicing up his legs and through his t-shirt. They tug the ruined remnants away, discarding them on the floor. When they're finished and the boy is lying naked in the Chair, the girl Keeper with the soft voice that doesn't match her face and the ugly swollen nose picks up the strips of fabric and dumps them in the waste bin.

The boy is quiet. There's no need to scream yet, Jason knows. The Chair can be painful, not always, but sometimes. The painful times come with no warning, no pattern that he can define. Usually it's just the same blood tests and what Jason has heard them call electrodes, wires and monitors and the thick red stuff the Keepers inject into them. Sometimes it's agony.

The young Keeper that might actually be the girl Keeper holds out his hand to the bearded one for the scissors but the other Keeper shakes his head. He grabs a chunk of the new kid's hair roughly. Jason can't see from his position but he imagines the Keeper's gaze looking through the new kid the way they all look through him, like he's not a person, just a thing.

"Too thick," the Keeper says through his mask. Jason doesn't like it when they talk through their masks. They're supposed to have mouths to speak through. "It'll jam the razor."

The young Keeper shrugs and backs up half a step, making a small motion towards the boy's head.

Chop, chop, chop, go the scissors and waves of dark brown hair float to the floor.

In the light of the long thin bulbs that hang from the ceiling Jason can see tears glimmering on the boys face. They usually cry. Jason thinks he might have been the only one that didn't.

The new kid has a lot of hair. The Keeper spends almost ten minutes hacking at it, roughly clenching sections in his fist, pulling them tight, before cutting through them close to the scalp, dropping the severed hair to the ground before grabbing up another clump and hacking through that. He undoes the forehead strap and shoves the boys head forward so he can get at the hair at the back.

Chop, chop, chop, go the scissors until there's a fluffy pile of hair at the Keepers feet and what's left on the boys head is jaggedly short, uneven and spiky.

Now the Keeper hands the scissors to his smaller companion and takes the electric razor that's passed back in turn.

Whizzz, goes the razor, and strips of short spiky dark hair turn into strips of pale hairless skin. The Keepers have had a lot of practice at this – Jason rubs a hand over his own head, two day old soft fuzz. Two days since he was in the Chair. 49 hours, 42 minutes – and when the Keeper's finished turning the boys head this way and that, sweeping the razor over and over it, every tiny strand of dark hair has joined the pile at his feet and the boy's head is completely smooth.

It's weird how different people look without their hair. The new kid is almost unrecognizable compared to when he was dragged in just 26 minutes ago, fully-clothed with his long hair whipping back and forth as he struggled violently. Now he's still and naked and bald.

Jason wonders how different he looks. He hasn't seen a mirror for one year, seven months and eleven days.

The Keeper returns the forehead strap, pulls it tight and buckles it. He and the Keeper that has returned from putting the scissors and razor away start to attach the things called electrodes to the boy's now naked scalp. Jason counts 37 before the angle stops him from seeing the other side of the new kids head. He hopes it's an even number. He likes even numbers the best.

The girl Keeper uses a small pan and brush to sweep up the hair on the floor and tips it into the waste bin before returning to insert a needle into the boy's arm. Jason watches her pull a vial of blood into the syringe and when he glances at the boys face he realizes that the new kid is looking at him.

His eyes are red-rimmed, bloodshot, trails of tears sliding down the sides of his face towards his ears, his gaze fixed on Jason.

Jason doesn't understand the look on the new kid's face – he remembers a woman in a coat like the Keepers are wearing telling his mother that reading faces is something he'll have trouble with – but something about it makes him clench the bars of the railing tighter. He stares back at the kid until one of the Keepers looks up and tells him to go back to his room.

He does.

XXX

He doesn't see the new kid for two days, though an hour after he goes to his room he hears a commotion just down the hall where the small closet is.

His old roommate told him once that Solitary is horrible and he's seen the cupboard. It's a tight fit, piled with boxes so that the space inside is even smaller, leaving no room for the person inside to do anything other than stand for the extent of their punishment. The longest anyone has been in there is two days and sixteen hours.

Jason very deliberately does nothing that could lead to him being put in Solitary. His room is small and lacks any kind of entertainment but he'd rather be able to sit or lie down, to have light rather than days of darkness.

The new kid is still squinting, trying to raise his arms to block out the light that must seem brighter after Solitary and stumbling like his legs have forgotten how to work when the Keepers lead him into Jason's room and push him down on the spare mattress that sits against the wall, opposite Jason's.

The Keepers don't make a habit of talking to him or any of the other kids as far as he can tell. They're all just research material. The Keepers leave wordlessly and Jason sits up on his mattress to look at the boy who is apparently his new roommate. He hears the Keepers lock the door.

The new kid is around the same age as Jason – they all are – 13 or 14. Jason is 14 years, 3 months and 24 days old. The boy has a black eye, bruised a threatening gray and black and it seems darker due to the white drawstring pants and white t-shirt he's dressed in, identical to Jason's clothes, and the pale white of skin that's been sheltered by hair for years, shadowed by tiny stubble. The suntan will fade. Jason's willing to bet that the new kid won't see the sun for months, or years. Maybe never again. When the Keepers move them to new locations, it's always done at night.

The boy lies on his mattress, like even sitting up is an impossible task, looking back at Jason with pupils that are blown wide.

"I don't understand what's going on," the kid whispers, after they've had a moment to take each other in. His voice shakes.

"Research," Jason hums, though he doesn't make a habit of talking either.

The boy frowns, mouth turned down, eyebrows scrunched together just a little. "Why?" he asks. "What are they looking for?"

Something, apparently. Something in their heads or in their blood. That's what the testing usually focuses around. Jason bunches up some of the material of his pants in a fist, then drops it, aware that the boy is still looking at him, maybe expecting him to say something but he doesn't intend to. There's nothing to say. He doesn't know.

"What's your name?" the boy asks finally. There are faint red marks around his mouth. Jason can see them if he looks closely. From the duct tape, he guesses.

"Jason." He knows the answer to that question.

The new kid chews his lip. "How long have you been here?"

He knows this one too. "One year, seven months and thirteen days."

The kid inhales sharply. He wraps his arms around himself like he's cold, even though it's actually fairly warm. "That's a long time," he murmurs.

Jason thinks the boy must feel terrible. He always feels terrible after being in the Chair, kind of like he's melting, like there's not enough blood left in him to stop him from deflating. It must be horrible to go from the Chair straight to Solitary.

"I'm Sam," the boy says, like he's just remembered that he hasn't introduced himself.

Sam, like Sam-I-Am, like I do not like green eggs and ham. Jason does like _Green Eggs and Ham_. His mother used to read it to him every night and make it for him every day for breakfast. He hasn't had green eggs and ham for one year, seven months and fourteen days.

Sam tries to say something else but Jason doesn't want to listen or talk anymore. He wants to think about his mother and green eggs and ham so he lies down and turns his back on his new roommate. When he looks later, Sam has fallen asleep.

XXX

The girl Keeper with the soft voice that doesn't match her face and the bruised nose that's still swollen and ugly brings them breakfast. It's oatmeal. Cold gray oatmeal. Not green eggs and ham, not green anything. She puts the bowls on the small bolted-down table next to the door, then hesitates, casting Sam a look Jason can't decipher. She picks up one of the bowls and takes it over to Sam's mattress. She holds it out to him.

Sam looks at her, then at Jason like maybe he wants a hint as to what he's supposed to do but this is new to Jason. Food has always been left on the table. Sam looks back at the bowl and finally reaches out for it.

The girl Keeper smiles, which does nothing to make her more attractive, and then she spits in the oatmeal.

Sam jerks back like he's been hit and the Keeper lets the bowl fall to the floor, spilling the lumpy breakfast over the wooden floorboards. She huffs a laugh before turning on her heel and leaving. Jason thinks she must still be angry at Sam for kicking her in the face.

Sam sits back on his mattress, kind of shrinking into himself. He twists his fingers together and turns away from the ruined oatmeal on the floor.

Jason's hungry, as usual, and his oatmeal is still fine, if not terribly appetizing, so he gets up from his mattress and heads for the table. There is no spoon, which is expected, and he eats with his hands, scooping the lumpy goo into his mouth. He could very easily eat all of it himself – the Keepers only give him the bare minimum amount of food, just enough to stop him from starving to death – but Sam's still huddled on his bare mattress with nothing. The Keepers brought him in after dinner yesterday and Jason knows that no one gets fed in Solitary.

He forces himself to stop eating when he's had about half of the bowls contents, then picks it up with sticky fingers and takes it over to Sam's mattress.

Sam has brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his head on his knees. Jason nudges his shoulder with the bowl and Sam jumps a little, bobbing his head up.

Jason holds out the oatmeal and watches Sam's eyes go to it, to the stuff on the floor and then to Jason's face.

"Are you sure?" he asks, voice still wobbly and small. Jason's not sure, not really. There's still hunger digging a hole in his stomach and as goopy and bland as the oatmeal is, he could eat several more bowls of it. He makes himself hold the bowl out further, until Sam takes it.

"Thanks," Sam murmurs, and immediately digs in with his fingers the same way Jason did.

Jason returns to his mattress and watches as Sam devours the oatmeal, eating fast and desperate until there's no more left to scrape from the bottom or sides of the bowl. Sam takes a deep breath, like it's the first one he's taken since he started eating, and lets it out slowly. He puts the bowl down beside his mattress and curls up on his side, both hands tucked under the side of his face, facing Jason. Jason sits cross-legged on his mattress, leaning against the wall, head tilted back, watching.

"I need..." Sam starts, eyes tracing a path around the room, "I need to figure out what's going on. If my brother was here... he'd tell be to stay calm and work it out, wait for a chance to escape."

Jason's not sure if Sam's talking to him or thinking out loud.

"Do you..." Now Sam looks at him. "I guess you don't really want to talk about it?"

"Research," Jason says. That's all he knows.

Sam nods. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling, folding his arms under his shaved head. "I don't even know where we are. They drove for hours before we got here. I tried to keep track of the lefts and rights but... too many, I guess. They drove for ages. I'm probably miles away from..." He turns his head to look at Jason. "Did they bring you here in a van? A big white one that has the cab sealed off from the back?"

Jason nods. They take him everywhere in that van, whenever they change locations he and the other kids are stuffed in the back, in the darkness, tied to metal loops at the sides.

"Yeah, me too." Sam shakes his head, "My Dad will be pissed that I let them get the drop on me. I didn't even see them coming, not until they grabbed me. My Dad, he always gets angry when he's worried."

Sam goes quiet then, staring up at the ceiling. The white paint is flaking and cracking. Finally he says, "My Dad and my brother, Dean, they'll be looking for me. They're better than the police. They'll find us."

No one has ever found them before. Jason doesn't say anything, but the only way he's seen anyone leave here is in a big black bag that means the research is over.

**To Be Continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sammy in Captivity**

**A/N: Thanks everyone for your wonderful reviews! And again, big thanks to SecondStarToTheRight18 for her help with editing. Warnings from chapter one still stand.**

**Chapter Two**

Sam has obviously been planning during the time they've sat in silence. The sound of a key slipping into the lock of their door has Sam on his feet in a flash, as though he hadn't been lying on the mattress seemingly too weak to move.

He scoops up the bowl that the oatmeal came in from beside his mattress, Jason's bowl rather than the one the girl Keeper spat in, and darts over to the table by the door, bare feet soundless on the wooden floor. He raises it up in the air, the door opens – it's the young Keeper – and Sam swings the bowl in a wide arc and crashes it into the Keepers face.

Jason is stunned. He's never seen anyone attack a Keeper like that. The young man rears back, letting out a yell as his hands fly to his face, dropping the slightly furry bread rolls he'd been carrying, and Sam ducks around him. He's out on the balcony, out of Jason's sight, before the Keeper even turns around.

There's a shocked moment of stillness, then the Keeper gives chase and Jason jumps up so he can watch from the doorway. He grips the frame, poking his head out just as much as he needs to see. Sam hits the stairs, stumbling down three of them before he snatches the handrail and regains his balance, narrowly avoiding a fall. He barely pauses though and he's jumping over the last three stairs by the time Jason notices that the young Keeper isn't chasing him any more. Instead, he stands at the top of the staircase, one hand massaging his cheek as he watches Sam run. Jason looks around. The other three Keepers are on the first floor, the bearded one still sitting at the computer, all still and following Sam's path with their eyes as he sprints the short distance from the mouth of the stairs to the door he was brought in four days ago.

It's not right. Jason edges out onto the balcony and crouches down to watch between the railings, waiting for something to go wrong.

Sam appears not to have noticed the Keepers' strange behaviour, too focussed on escape. He skids to a stop before the door and reaches out. His fingers touch the handle and the air freezes. Bolts of blue and red flash through the room. There's a_ bang_ that brings Jason's hands up to cover his ears and Sam flies backwards as if thrown, sliding across the floor in a jumble of limbs and coming to a stop seven feet back from the door. He's on his side, facing away from Jason. He is very, very still.

Only now does the young Keeper descend the stairs, boots thudding down each step. The bearded one gets up from his seat at the computer and they all converge over Sam's limp form.

Jason is fairly sure that the bearded one is in charge, at least of this little group. He's heard him speak before about sending reports to someone so perhaps he works for someone else, but either way, it's the bearded Keeper that crouches down and puts his fingers against Sam's neck.

"Still alive," he tells the others, before turning to the young one. "What happened?"

"Little monster hit me with it's bowl," the young Keeper growls.

There's some muttering that Jason can't make out and then the bearded Keeper says loudly, "We'll sort it out later. Let's get this one strapped in. No point wasting the opportunity to see what a high-voltage shock does to these things."

Without further discussion, the young Keeper grabs Sam at the armpits and the blond one hooks his hands under Sam's knees. Together they pick him up and carry him. Sam hangs between them, head tilted back and his arms and feet dragging towards the floor. He's like a doll. If the bearded Keeper hadn't said that he was alive, Jason would have been sure that he was dead.

They drop Sam into the Chair and buckle him in quickly. They don't bother to undress him though the girl Keeper gets a pair of scissors from the drawer and cuts Sam's t-shirt up the middle, attaching what might be a larger version of the electrodes to his chest while the blond one and the young one start sticking the usual ones to his head.

Jason doesn't stay to watch any more. He goes back to his room before anyone can see him and maybe punish him for Sam's disobedience.

XXX

Sam beats the Solitary record by four hours. If Jason hadn't heard the Keepers shove him in he would have assumed that Sam had died, but he did hear them. He wonders if they checked on him every now and then to make sure he was breathing, or if maybe Sam actually is dead in the cupboard. He doesn't think they'd let him die yet.

Two days and 20 hours after Jason heard the closet door shut, he watches silently through his ajar door as the bearded Keeper, accompanied by the blond one, unlocks the cupboard door and swings it open. Sam tumbles out and thuds to the floor, momentarily suspended on his hands and knees before he crumbles the rest of the way down. He curls one arm to his chest and clumsily raises the other to cover his eyes against the sudden light. He shakes.

"Think it'll behave itself now?" the blond Keeper asks.

The bearded Keeper grunts and shrugs.

Jason expects them to return Sam to their room but instead they take an arm each and pull him up, dragging him down the stairs. Jason listens to the thumps Sam's feet make as they hit each step, not carrying his own weight at all. They're down on Level One before Sam seems to realize where they're taking him.

"Nonono," Jason hears him moan, words slurred together, "I'll behave, I swear."

Of course the Keepers don't listen. Sam hasn't learnt yet that he shouldn't bother trying to talk to them.

The Keepers don't take him straight to the Chair though. First they stop in the open space of Level One, between the Chair and it's semi-circle of equipment and the door with the mouths of the staircases on either side of it and force Sam to stand while the blond Keeper strips off his once white clothes, now grimy with sweat, dust and urine, the t-shirt sliced up the middle. Sam shivers, head down, wrapping his arms around himself.

The bearded Keeper unravels the hose that's kept coiled against the wall, the facility's version of a shower, not often used, until it has enough length to reach Sam and then presses the handle at the nozzle. Water sprays out, hitting Sam in the chest and knocking him over. The Keeper simply steps forward another pace and keeps spraying while Sam huddles on the floor. Jason sees him open his mouth to try to get a drink and the Keeper abruptly lets go of the handle. The water stops.

Jason wonders if Sam has figured out that there's no point in fighting or if he's simply too tired. He doesn't struggle at all when the Keepers drag him to the Chair and strap him in, first wrists, then ankles, then waist. Sam has his eyes closed. The Keepers leave the forehead strap unbuckled and the bearded Keeper takes the razor the blond one gets for him. He pushes his shirt sleeves up and flicks it on, beginning to shave off the week-worth of regrown hair. Tiny filings of stubble patter to the floor. Sam doesn't resist as the Keeper moves his head back and forth, turning it side to side until his whole head is smooth and hairless again.

The bearded Keeper turns off the razor and hands it back to the blond, then buckles the forehead strap.

Together the two Keepers attach the usual electrodes to the newly-bare skin. Jason tries to watch their hands so he can count them but it's too confusing with both of them working at the same time. Once they're finished, the blond Keeper goes to the set of drawers and pulls out a small box that Jason hasn't seen before, square and grey. He unwraps some things tangled around it, two wires, Jason sees, and a plug for a standard wall socket and sets it on the table, reaching back to plug it in behind the computer. The bearded Keeper takes the wires and untangled them and Jason realizes that at the ends are two electrodes.

The blond Keeper fiddles with the box and the bearded one fixes the electrodes at the end of the wire to Sam's chest. He stands back.

"Don't, don't, please," Jason hears Sam moan, tugging uselessly at his straps. "God, please, I'll behave, don't-"

He's cut off as the blond Keeper flips a switch on the box. There's a small zap and the air stands almost as still as it did when Sam touched the door handle. He doesn't go flying this time but jolts against the straps that hold him, suddenly completely tense, back arching, teeth clenched together, spasming in the Chair.

The Keeper flips the switch back into position and Sam goes limp. He blinks a few times and moans low in his throat, seemingly involuntarily. The Keepers ignore him and watch the monitors. The pictures on the screens don't look like anything decipherable to Jason, one's just lines with bumps in them and what he thinks are numbers but they're too small to make out, another is a sort of circle with dark patches and light patches in different colours.

_Zap_, goes the air, and Sam jerks again. His fingers twist into claws, heels pressed hard against the foot of the Chair. Jason thinks he might be able to hear the drops of water on Sam' skin sizzling.

Again, the Keeper lets him go limp and they study the monitors, and again, the air _zaps_ and this time Sam screams, this horrible noise forced out through grinding teeth, full of wordless pain that Jason understands so well.

The process repeats and repeats and repeats. Sometimes the Keepers don't even look at the monitors, often enough for Jason to understand that this is about punishment as much as research.

Sam cries after a while (everyone cries, everyone but Jason), Jason can see the moisture on his face, can hear the hitches in his breath, and he shakes uncontrollably. He stops screaming. Jason watches blood bubble on his lips as he moans through zaps and sobs in the moments between them.

Nearly an hour has passed by the time the Keepers stop. Fifty-two minutes and forty-two seconds.

The bearded one presses a few buttons on the computer's keyboard and a long strip of paper prints out. It seems to be the pictures they were looking at on the monitors and they speak in quiet voices for a while before the bearded one folds up the paper and puts it on the desk.

The blond unbuckles the straps, forehead, wrists and waist first and the bearded Keeper tugs a new white t-shirt over Sam's head, forcibly shoving Sam's arms through the holes. The blond undoes the rest of the straps and holds Sam up while the other pulls a pair of pants onto him.

When they begin to drag Sam toward the stairs, Jason hurries back to his room, leaving the door ajar because it's better if they know that he knows the door isn't locked and he makes no attempt to escape.

He's lying down on his mattress, staring at the ceiling when the Keepers haul Sam in and drop him on the other mattress. This time they do lock the door behind them, of course, now that Sam's back from Solitary.

Only when he hears their footsteps heading away does Jason dare to look at Sam, as if looking before would have classed him as a trouble-maker too, guilty by association.

Shudders run through his room mate, so hard that it seems possible he might just vibrate off the mattress. Sam's eyes are closed, the skin around them puffy and red and tears cling to his lashes. There's still blood on his lips, maybe he bit his tongue, and the hand that touched the exit looks burnt, fingers curled painfully over raw weeping flesh.

"Sam," Jason says and he doesn't know why he says it but Sam opens his eyes and looks at him. He takes a shaky breath in and out. "Hey, Jason."

It's suddenly so wonderfully awesome to hear someone say his name. The Keepers never say his name or anyone else's, as far as he's heard, so it's probably been one year, seven months and seventeen days since he's heard someone say it, and he likes it. He doesn't know what to say next though so he just looks at Sam for a while. Sam breathes, slow and controlled, and shakes and shakes.

"Shouldn't run," Jason says finally.

Sam looks surprised, then huffs a small laugh that Jason doesn't think is sincere. His mouth quirks up into a small quick smile that looks like it hurts. "Yeah, I figured... not that way, at least."

"Shouldn't run." Jason frowns. Doesn't Sam get it, even now? It's better not to run.

"No, I need a plan. I think..." Sam seems to wilt a little. "...I need to wait, and watch them until I... or until Dad and Dean get here. They're looking. They'll be looking right now."

It's five in the morning. Jason wonders if his mother is looking for him. He thinks she probably is. She has no one to make green eggs and ham for, no one to read to at night. She has no one.

He and Sam are both quiet for a long time.

Footsteps. They look towards the door as a key slips into the lock. Breakfast time, Jason thinks.

It's the girl Keeper, her nose back to normal except for a green tinge, like Sam's eye. It sits on her face, this wide, flat thing that steals all the attention from the rest of her features, though none of them hold any attraction either; sharp grey eyes and thin lips always pursed. She doesn't look at them as she places a couple of pieces of bread each down on the table. There are no plates.

Instead of leaving, like Jason expects, the Keeper reaches into the pocket of her thigh-length black coat and pulls out a syringe, uncapping the needle as she steps over to Sam and crouches down.

Sam watches her but doesn't move, maybe can't move, and cries out a muffled yelp when the girl tugs out his arm with the burnt hand, squeezing his eyes closed.

The Keeper slips the needle into the crook of Sam's arm and depresses the plunger. It must be something to fix Sam's hand. The Keepers may be cold and cruel but Jason doubts they would let Sam die of an infection. At least, not yet, when they've only just begun to study him.

After she has capped the needle and put it away, she takes a small tube from a different pocket and smears the thick white ointment inside over Sam's damaged hand. Finally she wraps it up in bandages, roughly efficient, and stands, wordlessly leaving the room.

With her out of the way, Jason can see how Sam is pressing his face into his mattress, his now-bandaged hand held out stiffly like he can't bare to move it.

Jason gets up and goes to the table to eat his bread.

Sam doesn't get up, probably won't get up for a while, and Jason finds himself picking up Sam's bread and carrying it over to Sam's mattress. Sam's only eaten half a bowl of oatmeal since the Keepers brought him here. He must be very hungry.

Jason kneels down and holds out the bread but Sam's not looking.

"Sam," he says. Maybe Sam will say _Jason_ back.

Sam opens his eyes and turns his head to look up at Jason. It takes him a while to focus on the bread and when he does, he just looks at it for a moment like he doesn't understand what it is. Finally his gaze switches to Jason's face and his un-bandaged hand reaches out to pluck it from his grasp.

"Thanks," he whispers, his voice thin. He doesn't say _Jason_, which is disappointing but he's still being spoken _to_ rather than _around,_ so that's okay.

Sam doesn't sit up to eat. Jason goes and lies on his mattress too because that seems to be what they're doing and he watches Sam eat the bread in small tired bites. He falls asleep before he finishes the first slice, leaving Jason to stare at the empty white walls of their room and wonder how the Keepers will bring them water without giving Sam a weapon. Usually it comes in a two litre plastic jug.

Sam's sleep is restless, full of flinches and whimpers. Sometimes he calls out for Dean, only twice for his Dad. Jason is used to hearing kids cry or scream in their sleep here.

At ten o'clock, the Keepers come to take him for his weekly visit to the Chair. Usually only one comes but all four of them escort him from the room. Maybe they're still wary of Sam.

It's not really so bad if you don't fight. At least, compared to if you do. Jason goes willingly, the Keepers don't need to drag him or even hold him. He walks by himself, doesn't struggle when the Keepers strip him, and sits in the Chair without prompting, even though he hates the Chair and hates the Keepers too. He stays still as they strap him in and tries not to wiggle when the razor tickles his head.

Honestly, unless it's painful – and then it just _hurts_ – being in the Chair is only slightly less boring than being in his room. Every week the Keepers attach the electrodes and watch the monitors, take blood and inject the strange red liquid that makes his skin tingle, watch the monitors some more and dress him in a fresh change of clothes when they're done. Jason thinks that whatever they're looking for in him, they haven't found it yet. He's seen the busy excitement when the monitors show something new in one of the kids. Him, they're just keeping track of. Or maybe they're just keeping.

When they take him back to his room, the blond Keeper puts water on the table. It's in a thin plastic sack with a twist nozzle in one corner. He waits for them to leave before taking a drink, awkwardly holding the bladder up with one hand and twisting the nozzle with the other. The water's fresh. He wonders if the sack will keep it that way. The water in the jug goes warm and stale quickly.

He finishes drinking and twists the nozzle back in place. He's about to put it back on the table when a glance at Sam shows he's awake and looking at him. Or rather, looking at the sack of water. Jason brings it over to him. It seems to be becoming a habit.

Sam holds the bladder even more awkwardly than Jason, his bandaged hand making it near impossible but he manages. More than manages, really. He drinks like he'll never stop, like it's the best thing in the world, solely focussed on it. Jason's not sure if the Keepers give even water to kids in Solitary so Sam must be desperate for it.

Eventually he stops drinking, twisting the nozzle to stop the flow, apparently understanding that it has to last the whole day. He lets the bladder drop onto the mattress next to him and breathes for a while, seeming to have ignored the need while he was drinking.

"You were gone," he says finally. "Did they put you in the Chair?"

Sam's eyes roam up to Jason's freshly shaven head. Jason nods.

"I don't understand what they're looking for," Sam sighs. "Why us?"

Jason wonders this too sometimes. His mother used to tell him that he was special but he doesn't think this was what she meant.

XXX

An uneventful week passes, then two, and Jason misses not having a room mate that needs the door locked. He thinks he might like Sam, like having someone who talks to him and looks at him like he's an actual person, even if sometimes Sam asks strange questions about whether his mother hunts anything (she doesn't) or if their house once caught on fire (it didn't), but he misses being able to peek out his door or crawl out onto the balcony to see what's happening. The four white walls of their room are suffocating.

He gets to watch Sam when the Keepers take him to the Chair though, which means he's crouched in his usual place on the balcony when the usually straight-forward process of electrodes, blood, injection explodes into an uproar over the images on the monitors.

The girl Keeper has taken blood and depressed the syringe full of the tingly red liquid into Sam's arm and the result is almost instantaneous. She has enough time to turn away, then Sam cries out, a small stunned sound that has her whipping back around. Sam's hands clench into fists, his eyes squeeze shut, he arches up a little, and the Keepers all look to the monitors in unison, as though they're one person split into four, a thought that Jason finds creepy and he decides not to think it again. A section of the wonky circle on the screen lights up.

"Got it!" The bearded Keeper rushes to the computer, where he taps away on the keyboard, fingers zipping around.

Sam cries out again and his eyes fly open, darting back and forth at something Jason can't see.

The young Keeper shines a small flashlight into Sam's eyes, checking one and then the other. Next, he sticks a pin in Sam's leg, moving up his thigh and jabbing it in and out six times.

"No reaction," he reports. The bearded Keeper nods distractedly, typing away. The blond and the girl are folding up a long stretch of computer print-out, talking quietly and occasionally pointing at things on the paper.

Jason sees the lit up patch of the circle go dark. Sam slumps, tension leaving his body and his eyelids flutter.

"What did you see?" the bearded Keeper demands. Jason didn't see him move but now he's right next to the Chair, leaning over Sam.

Sam doesn't look at him, doesn't seem to hear him, gaze skittering around the room, heaving deep breaths.

"What did you see?" the Keeper asks again, louder, and Sam's eyes jerk to his face.

"I... I don't..."

"Solitary," the bearded Keeper snaps, turning to the girl who hovers at his shoulder. "Until it talks."

"No!" Sam cries. "No, I saw, it was, the room, with Jason. We were in the room."

"What else?" The bearded Keeper turns back, fixing Sam with a glare that even Jason understands. Talk or deal with the consequences. Without looking away, he motions to the young Keeper who has taken his place at the computer. The young Keeper starts typing.

"Nothing, I promise. That's all, just the room. I was telling Jason about my brother."

"Have you spoken of your brother before?"

Sam goes to shake his head but the forehead strap's still in place. "No, I haven't."

There's a long pause as the Keeper looks at Sam and Sam looks back. Finally the bearded Keeper turns away. "Get it dressed," he tells the other three, "And take it back to it's room."

The girl Keeper and the blond one unbuckle Sam and manhandle him into new clothes. Sam's unsteady on his feet, one hand pressed to his temple as the two Keepers lead him to the stairs.

Jason scampers back to his room, settling himself on the mattress before Sam's brought in. They don't take him to his mattress – that's only when Sam can't walk – just push him into the room and close the door. Sam winces as it shuts, like the sound is too loud.

He stands there for a moment, swaying, before glancing at the door and stepping gingerly over to Jason. He sinks down on the mattress beside him, which he hasn't done before. Jason looks at the shiny pink skin on Sam's injured hand.

"Do they listen in here?" Sam asks quietly.

Jason doesn't think so. He shakes his head.

"I didn't see this room." Sam's voice is barely above a whisper. "I saw... I don't know how, but I saw us running, through trees. I think we're gonna get out of here."

Jason doesn't understand. How did Sam see them? And no one ever gets out. This is crazy. It's not... It's not that Jason likes it here, not at all, but it's less frightening than the idea of escape. He knows the routines here, he understands, to a point, what the Keepers are doing. Watching. Waiting. Just like him.

Sam sits his elbows on his knees and puts his head in his hands, shuddering a little when his fingers touch smooth skin instead of hair. "I have, like, the worst headache imaginable," he mumbles, "Just wanted to tell you that I'll figure this out.

Sam pushes himself up with what seems like extreme effort and staggers to his mattress, dropping down on it in a way that makes him seem heavier than he is. Jason has watched the weight melt off Sam, shoulders and elbows sharper, collarbones visible through the neck of his t-shirt. The drawstring stops his pants from from slipping down narrow hips and the shirt droops like off a coat-hanger. No, it doesn't take long before the new kids start looking like the old kids, pale, thin lab rats with dead eyes.

Sam's eyes still have hope though. He still thinks his Dad and brother will come for him, or now, that he and Jason will escape. Hope's a dangerous thing to have at the facility. All it leads to is Solitary.

**To Be Continued**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sammy in Captivity**

**A/N: You people blow me away with your wonderful reviews! Of course, big thanks to SecondStarToTheRight18 for her help with editing. :)**

**Chapter Three**

Sam, it seems, is determined, and quick. Jason watched him in the Chair – nothing exciting this week – and watched as the Keepers led him back to the stairs but he never saw Sam lift the set of keys he's now holding up in the darkness of their room.

"Do you know if there's another way out?" Sam asks, withdrawing the hand he used to shake Jason awake. "Not the door that's electrified. Do you know if there's another one?"

Jason's still blinking sleep out of his eyes, his foggy head trying to keep up. There is another door. On the other side of the bottom floor but it's through the Keepers' sleeping quarters. He's only seen it once, the single time he was brave enough to venture down the stairs while the Keepers were out getting a new kid. He nods.

"Will you come with me? Show me where it is? What I saw, it was both of us on the outside. I think you're meant to come."

Jason hesitates. If they're caught he'll get Solitary for sure, no matter how harmless the Keepers assume he is, and Sam might get something worse, seeing as Solitary doesn't seem to be enough to break him down. The Keepers might withhold food or water or maybe zap them both.

But, if they're not caught, if by some miracle they actually manage to get away, run through those trees Sam says he saw, he might get back to his house with his green room and blankets and a toilet that's not a bucket. He might get to see his mom again.

He nods because there is nothing he wants more in the world.

"Yeah?" Sam says, in a way that makes Jason think that Sam thought he wouldn't come. He wonders how much faith Sam is actually putting in his vision or whatever it was. "That's awesome. C'mon, Jason."

Jason really likes it when Sam says his name. He follows Sam's dark shape to the door. His eyes are adjusting to the dark so it's a bit easier to see Sam and the key chain he's holding. Sam tries three different keys before the fourth one turns and clicks.

Sam lets out a breath he must have been holding and carefully pushes the door open. He's still for a moment, checking the balcony, Jason guesses, then, he motions Jason forward and creeps out the door.

Silently, Jason leads Sam to the staircase and they tiptoe down the 23 steps. There are no windows in this building so the dark is complete. He can make out vague shapes but he keeps a steadying hand on the rail, feeling each step as he goes. At the bottom, Jason motions to the room the Keepers live in and senses Sam freeze.

"Are you serious?" he whispers. "The door's through there?"

Jason nods. Where else would it be? They're close enough together that he can see Sam's face as he chews his lip and glances back at the stairs, like maybe he's considering going back, but he takes a breath and says, "Okay."

Level One seems bigger in the dark, in a threatening kind of way. The Chair is a thick black shadowy shape. Jason sticks close to Sam, afraid that he might lose him, as they pad across the wooden floor, bare feet silent. Sam knows how to be soundless just like Jason does.

They reach the door to the Keepers' room. Sam presses his ear against it and listens for two minutes and twenty-four seconds while Jason tries not to breathe too loud.

After two minutes and twenty-four seconds, Sam takes his ear from the door and ever so slowly tests the handle. It's locked, as Jason expected.

Sam goes through only two keys this time. The second one works. The click of the door unlocking sounds unbearably loud and Sam presses his ear back against it, holding his breath, eyes closed as he listens for three minutes exactly. Jason wonders if Sam was counting too.

Sam looks back at Jason. He puts a finger to his lips as if to say, 'Shhh', but he doesn't actually say it. Jason knows to be quiet though. If they're going to walk past the sleeping Keepers and out the door on the other side of their room they have to be completely silent.

Sam edges the door open. Jason stands back a few steps because this door could be booby trapped too, for all he knows. But nothing happens other than the faint whisper of the door moving across the wooden floor.

He steps forward into the doorway with Sam and takes in the room. The Keepers sleep two on each side. He knows that the large rectangular shapes that take up most of the room as filing cabinets, stacked on top of each other. He counted eight the one time he'd seen this room, four on each side, in the corners. It's fairly sparse other than that; just a small table between each of the sets of beds, scattered with items too small and too dark to make out.

The door is directly in front of them. Sam sees it too and starts forward in slow careful steps. Jason follows and tries to step where Sam does because he's still wary of traps and if Sam doesn't set anything off then he won't either.

It seems that the Keepers don't bother trapping their own room though, probably never imagining that they would need to, all their test subjects under lock and key. Jason and Sam make it to the door without a hitch and Sam drops smoothly to one knee in front of the lock. For the first time since he agreed to show Sam the door, Jason stops thinking about what could go wrong and starts imagining what could go right. They're so close, only this door standing between them and outside. Any minute now, he could step out into fresh air, into moonlight and stars and the world that has carried on without him for so long.

A key clashes against another key, too loud, definitely too loud. Jason catches a glimpse of movement to his right but Sam's twisting a key in the lock, then shoving the door open. An alarm blares, making Jason want to cover his ears, and Sam reaches back a hand to grab his wrist and tugs him out.

They're running hard and frantic, Sam is fast, the ground is damp, grass, twigs and mud. There _are_ trees, a forest looming closer. Sam heads towards it.

There are shouts behind them and the fresh air is hard to breathe while they're sprinting like this. The alarm is so loud. He doesn't know if the Keepers are chasing them and he doesn't want to look back. Sam doesn't look back, focused on the trees ahead of them.

Jason can't decide what's scarier, the flat, naked field that leaves them exposed in the moonlight, or the black trees. He thinks the field, the overwhelming alarm and his heartbeat in his ears, Sam's rough gasps and the Keepers that might be right behind them. Then they hit the trees and he changes his mind. The forest is suffocating, branches reaching out like hands to grab them, roots trying to trip them. It doesn't take long for his feet to start to hurt from the sharp stones and sticks they stumble over, and just when he's realized that he can't run any more, he can't breathe, he wants to simply close his eyes and lie down and try to catch his breath around the terror, Sam stops.

"I know this tree," he gasps, though Jason can't imagine how. It's a long thin line of a tree between two larger ones, leaves stripped bare as far up as Jason can see.

Sam pulls him down behind a huge fallen trunk, a few feet to the right of the little tree, onto a spongy carpet of dead, decaying leaves, and they crouch there among moss and bugs, trying to catch their breath.

It's barely a minute before a twig snaps close by. Sam goes as still as a statue, eyes wide. Jason imagines that he looks the same. Their white clothes seem impossibly bright in the darkness, their eyes catching the thin streams of moonlight between the branches above. They're about to be found, dragged back, put in Solitary.

"Oh, this is impossible!" a voice exclaims, closer than Jason expected. It's the girl Keeper and her soft voice is filled with anger.

"You let it get your keys. It's your fault we're out here in the middle of the damn night," a male Keeper replies. Jason can't figure out which one just by his voice. Not the bearded one, the young one or the blond.

"It doesn't matter whose fault it is," the girl Keeper spits. "We need to find them. There has to be a better way, rather than trudging through this stupid forest."

"If they're still going this way they're headed straight for town. We need to catch up with them before they get there."

The voices head away, still arguing.

Sam slumps, letting out a breath. There's blood on his face, a thin slice across his cheek, from a branch maybe. He swipes a hand over it.

"I saw that," he says. "In the chair, it was us running, then that tree and us hiding here while those two went past. I... I don't know what they're doing to us but..."

Sam trails off. "Do you think the other two are in the woods?" he asks finally, peeking over the fallen tree. Jason doesn't know and doesn't intend to answer, but it seems Sam doesn't expect him to anyway because he ducks back down and carries on. "If they're heading towards a town, we need to go that way too, but we can't follow their trail..."

Sam is quiet for a while, looking out into the forest, mapping a path apparently because after one minute and fourteen seconds he gets to his feet, hand round Jason's wrist again, and heads off as if he knows where he's going.

Jason wonders if Sam's afraid of being alone in this dark forest too. Maybe that's why he doesn't let him go, even though he's not useful any more. Jason's glad for it anyway, without Sam's hand, he feels as though the forest might swallow him.

They go slowly this time, stepping carefully on the mulched forest floor, though there are enough sharp sticks and stones that after a while Jason thinks his feet might be bleeding, maybe Sam's too but Sam just keeps going, stopping often to listen or maybe to get his bearings, but never for long. They need to keep moving.

Jason looks up and sees the stars flashing between the leaves, sprinkles of light. The moon is broken into pieces by the branches above them and Jason wishes it was full and whole. Outside is far scarier than he imagined and he can't shake the feeling that he doesn't belong here, outside the facility. He wishes for sunlight, for it to be his mother holding his hand, for safety.

But there's only darkness, and Sam.

XXX

The sun is just beginning to send streaks of pink and orange across the sky when they make it to the edge of the forest. Jason is too tired and sore and thirsty to appreciate his first sunrise since breaking out. Sam makes him stop just inside the trees and they watch for a while.

There's another bare expanse of field to cross before reaching the first building, and a road beside it. Sam watches the road for a long time but no cars or vans come by. Sam tells him to run anyway and they both dash across the clearing. No one appears to chase them but Jason feels as though he's being hunted all the same. He pictures the Keeper's van behind them, grumbling and nipping at their heels.

There's no relief upon reaching the town. Their pace slows but not too much. Sam leads him down twists and turns, around houses and through alleyways. He seems to be looking for something.

Finally they reach a corner dairy and Sam stops. The dairy is closed but Sam's more interested in the stack of newspapers at its door, bundled together with a thick plastic strip.

"Kingston Daily News," Sam reads. "So that's something. Now we just need a payphone. I can call my Dad, he'll figure out where we are."

Jason wonders if it would make more sense to call the police – he remembers his mother saying that the police are there to help you if you're in trouble and they are definitely in trouble – but Sam's on a mission so he just follows along.

The sun rises higher and people start to appear on the streets, cars rumbling by. A man in a grey suit with a black briefcase stares at them as he passes and Jason realizes how out of place they must look; two skinny teenagers in tattered white clothes, bare feet and buzzed heads. The cut on Sam's face is crusty with dark, dried blood, a long sweep across his cheekbone and Jason has become aware of stinging scratches on his arms. They're both grass-stained and muddy, bits of forest debris clinging to their clothes. Jason picks a torn bit of leaf from his pants.

"Here," Sam says suddenly. Jason looks up to see that there's a phone booth just ahead of them, by a bus stop. Sam runs for it, like it might disappear if they don't get there fast enough. Jason sticks close to his heels and they both wedge themselves inside the box, which somehow seems safer than the sidewalk.

Jason listens as Sam dials the operator and reels off some numbers for a collect call, then a tinny ringing starts inside the phone.

A small convoy of cars travels fast and the rumbling covers the voice that picks up but Sam says, "Dad" like it's a magic word and kind of slumps, phone clutched to his ear, resting his forehead against the booth's glass wall.

"No, no, I'm okay, I'm just..." Jason sees Sam look down at himself and suck in a breath. "I got away, I ran away but they're looking for me."

A deep voice muffles out of the phone.

"I don't know," Sam stammers, "I don't know what they are, they look like people, they might just be people, I don't know."

Jason's too busy wondering what that means – _they might just be people_ – to hear what the voice says next. Sam is listening intently though.

"I don't know," he says, "I found a newspaper though, it said Kingston Daily News."

The phone goes silent for a while, long enough that Sam digs his fingernails into his palm. Jason can see his knuckles turning white.

"_Got it,_" the voice, Sam's Dad, says finally. "_Got you, Sammy, we're coming now, we're_-"

The rest of the sentence is drowned out by a passing car. Blue. Jason watches the driver chat on his cellphone as he goes past, never once looking in their direction, and he gets the urge to stay in this box that seems to make them invisible for forever, or at least until Sam's Dad arrives.

"That's too long!" Sam exclaims. "They're looking for me! Any minute- Dean?"

"_Sammy, it's gonna be okay_."

Sam's breath hitches like he's going to cry but he doesn't. "Dean, they took me to some sort of facility, there's all these other kids there, I think, and they were doing some sort of experiments on us, I don't know, I don't... Me and Jason, he was in the room they kept me in, we got away but they're coming after us. What are we supposed to do for _four hours_?"

"_Sammy, calm down, okay? We're on our way, we're already in the car, and we're gonna find you, don't worry. Just_-"

Another stream of cars muffles the rest of Dean's words.

"Okay." Sam nods even though Dean can't see him, his voice shaking. "We can do that, just... if they catch us, they'll take us back. It's a big grey building on the edge of town. We had to go through this little forest to get here... the front door's electrified but there's one at the back. Just, please hurry, Dean, I don't wanna go back there."

Jason doesn't listen to their goodbyes. Instead, he watches his breath fogging the phone booth's glass until Sam's hand touches his shoulder.

"Come on. Dean said to find the library. They'll meet us there but they're four hours away so we need to be careful, hide out for a while."

Jason mutely follows Sam from the phone booth. There are more people on the sidewalks now. They would have to weave around them if not for the way everyone backs off when they see them, like they don't want to get too close. It doesn't take long for Sam to frown down at himself, then look over Jason.

"We're too conspicuous. We need to get off the streets."

He ducks into the first shop they come across. Jason, of course, follows. It's a Tobacco Store, rows of pipes and cartons of cigarettes are sheltered in the glass case that makes the front desk. There are posters and packs of incense and it's all very colourful and a little overwhelming. A small Asian woman stares at them from behind the desk.

"Can you tell us where the library is?" Sam asks her, apparently unfazed by the stunned look on her face and the claustrophobic feel of so many things in one place. Jason doesn't even know where he'd begin to start counting everything.

"Um..." the woman says, looking Sam up and down before looking over his shoulder to do the same to Jason. Jason edges closer to Sam, hiding himself.

"Please," Sam says. The woman's gaze turns back to him and Jason can't see Sam's face, and probably wouldn't understand it anyway, but whatever he's doing with it makes some of the suspicion fade from the woman's eyes.

"Uh, yes." She has straight shoulder-length black hair. She twists a strand in her fingers. "Of course, it's three blocks down. Just take a right at the end of this street and keep going until you see a big brick building. That's the library."

Sam takes a breath, looking back out at the street through the large windows.

"Do you need help?" the woman blurts, still wide eyed. Her hand hovers over a bright red phone.

"No," Sam says quickly. "We're getting picked up at the library."

The woman nods, her hair bobbing once.

"Come on," Sam says to Jason, so he steps back out onto the street and follows Sam down a much more convoluted route than the woman instructed, ducking down alleyways and generally staying out of sight of other people. It occurs to Jason that the Keepers wouldn't want to snatch them in front of lots of witnesses and might be patrolling the quieter areas but he doesn't tell Sam this and they reach the library without being stopped, walking in to a rush of artificial warmth and shelves filled with books, the smell of old paper and hum of hushed voices.

There's a drinking fountain in one corner. Jason forgets everything when he sees it, forgets to stick with Sam, forgets they're being chased, and just drinks and drinks, the cold liquid splattering his chin and feeling so, so good on his dry throat, until he can't fit any more in.

He straightens, swiping a hand over his face to catch the droplets, and realizes that Sam is next to him, already taking his turn at the water.

Now that his thirst is quenched, Jason becomes aware of all the other aches that have been pushed aside in his need for liquid. His feet feel bruised and tender, the scratches on his arms sting ferociously. He's hungry, the water sloshing around an empty stomach and he's suddenly so tired, like he was for a bit in the forest, when he wanted to lie down and maybe let the Keepers find him because it would have been so much easier than continuing to run.

Sam finishes drinking, straightening with a faint jingle. Jason locates the source as the set of keys Sam stole, tied onto the drawstring of his pants. He wonders how he didn't notice them before.

Sam looks around the library before his eyes settle on a couple of couches tucked away in one corner. Shelves of books block the view from the big wall-length windows and there's no one occupying the space.

"Over here," Sam says, apparently deciding that it'll be a suitable place to hide. They walk over. Sam sits on the couch that is against the wall and Jason sits beside him suddenly wary of the other couch and all the empty space behind it, where people could sneak up on him.

"We just need to wait," Sam says quietly. "Dad and Dean will be here as fast as they can. We should be fine if we just stay here and don't draw attention to ourselves."

Jason usually tries very hard not to draw attention to himself. He's quite good at fading into the background. So they stay there and don't draw any attention other than a few looks from the librarian whenever she passes. She doesn't try to talk to them. Jason wanders for a little bit, feeling Sam's anxious gaze on him the whole time, and comes back to the couch once he's found what he was looking for.

_Green Eggs and Ham, by Dr Seuss_. This library copy is battered and some of the pages are loose. It looks a lot like his one, tattered from so much use. He doesn't read it, just looks at the pictures and tries to imagine his mother's voice.

"That used to be my favourite book," Sam says unexpectedly. Jason had almost forgotten he was there. "I used to get Dean to read it to me all the time, over and over. I don't know what happened to my copy. I guess it got lost."

Got lost like they did, stolen maybe. Jason wonders what happened to Sam's mother, why Dean read _Green Eggs and Ham_ instead of her, why he doesn't say that she's looking for him, or coming for him with his Dad and brother.

"I want to be found," Jason says, surprising himself.

Sam blinks, as if he's surprised too, then he says, "Me too. We just... need to wait."

He leans to the side on the couch so he can see the clock above the check-out desk. He sighs. "In three more hours, we'll be found."

Jason starts counting down in his head.

**To Be Continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sammy in Captivity**

**A/N: Here it is – the last chapter. Thank you everyone who has been reading and reviewing. You're all awesome! Of course, special thanks to SecondStarToTheRight18 for her help with editing. You are awesome!**

**(I'm trying to do a follow up story for this, but it's proving difficult, so I'm crossing my fingers that it one day becomes post-able.)**

**Chapter Four**

Sam doesn't wander or pick up books to read. He just sits on the couch with his legs drawn up to his chest, chewing his thumbnail into non-existence and watching everyone that enters the library.

Jason stays put too. It's like being in their room at the facility but instead of walls and a locked door, it's the outside that holds them prisoner, the threat of being caught holding them in place.

When there are two hours and sixteen minutes left until they're meant to be found, they take another trip to the water fountain, and when there is one hour and 42 minutes left, Jason sees Sam jerk his head up from the arm of the couch. Sam blinks a few times and shakes his head slightly.

"Falling asleep," he mutters. "Gonna go to the bathroom, okay?"

Jason nods. He doesn't need to go so he stays with his book. Sam hovers, like he wants Jason to come, before finally turning and heading off.

At one hour and twenty-one minutes, however, Sam still hasn't come back, and Jason wishes he had gone with him because sitting here waiting all alone is getting scary. Two minutes later, Jason gets up and traces Sam's path to the bathrooms. They're right at the back of the library, a stall on either side of a small hallway and a glowing green EXIT sign over a door at the end.

Jason looks at the doors at his sides. Both of the latches say 'Vacant' so he pushes them both open one at a time. No Sam.

He stares at the exit. Maybe Sam figured out that he's not useful any more and decided to leave. Maybe he thought he'd have better luck on his own. But it doesn't seem right. He can't picture Sam ditching him after all this time, and this is where Sam's brother said to wait. Sam wouldn't just take off.

Jason is frozen by indecision, staring at the door. Sam couldn't have gone back to their seats, Jason would have seen him. So he must have gone out this door. There's nothing for Jason to do but take a look.

He pushes the door open.

There's a moment, a strangely long one, when the two Keepers on the other side look at him, surprised and unprepared for his arrival, then Sam claws the girl Keeper's hand from his mouth and yells, "Run!"

The moment breaks. Jason doesn't run. He doesn't fully understand why, instead of following Sam's orders, he throws himself at the Keepers, but it's something to do with Sam and a terrible, angry despair at the sight of his friend in the hands of the people who have kept him locked up for one year, eight months and nine days, after he's tried so hard and gotten them so far away. It's not fair and Jason doesn't think, he just lunges, swinging a fist into the girl Keeper's face.

The girl reels, though Jason doesn't think it was a very hard hit. It's just so unexpected, it takes them all by surprise. Jason has always been so good, so _harmless_, not even enough of a threat to warrant the locking of his door.

Sam recovers from the shock first and elbows the Keeper in her stomach. She folds over with an, "Omph!" and Sam twists out of her grasp. In the same movement, he pulls up his knee and sends a kick to the other Keeper. It's the young one and he folds over too, all the way to the ground. They're in an alleyway, Jason notes belatedly. The Keepers must have known they were here, must have been waiting for them.

The girl is still on her feet. She throws a punch that goes wild when Sam dodges out of the way. The Keeper on the ground makes a swipe for Sam's ankle and he dodges that too.

Sam's so _fast_. Jason's just as stunned as he was by his own punch. It makes him wonder how the Keepers caught Sam in the first place.

"Run!" Sam yells again, eyes briefly on Jason before the Keepers demand his attention. He ducks a blow and blocks another one with his forearm. The young one latches on to his wrist and Sam spins, using the Keeper's grasp and his momentum to send the Keeper skidding to the ground. Sam tries a kick to the girl's stomach but she catches his foot and shoves, sending Sam stumbling backwards a few steps.

Jason doesn't know what to do, doesn't know how to fight. The Keepers are focused on Sam, ignoring him as they tackle the more obvious threat, and he just hovers on the sidelines, unsure.

The girl Keeper advances on Sam before he can catch his balance, pulling something from the pocket of her black jacket with one hand as her other closes around Sam's wrist.

She smoothly pops the cap off a syringe with her thumb, at the same time as she pulls Sam close and wraps her thick arm around his chest, pinning him back against her.

There's a metal trash bin next to Jason. If the Keeper gets the needle into Sam, it's all over. Jason knows exactly what he should do.

He snatches up the trash bin's lid, realizing that it's heavier than he expected. He just needs to give Sam a chance. He lunges forward, swinging the metal lid the same way he swung his fist, sending it crashing down on the back of the girl Keeper's head.

It clangs against her skull and bounces off harder and faster than Jason thought it would, forcing him to drop it. The girl stumbles and Sam gets a better grip on her arm, somehow managing to flip her over his shoulder despite the size difference. Jason sees the air rush out of her lungs as she hits the ground.

The young Keeper growls, scooping up the trash bin lid and raising it towards Jason. He barely has time to flinch before Sam's in front of him, taking the blow with his arm. He hears Sam gasp and knows that the hit has done some damage but Sam barely pauses. He shoves against the lid, sending it back into the unprepared Keeper's chest and shoving him backwards. Sam grabs Jason's hand and they run towards the mouth of the alleyway.

Jason trips. He's not sure if that small stumble actually made much difference or made all the difference to the outcome but a split second after he rights himself, there's a shattering crash, and he turns in time to see Sam drop in a shower of broken glass, his hand slipping from Jason's grasp.

The girl Keeper stands over him, the neck of a destroyed bottle in her hand, the young Keeper right behind her. There's a pause as they all wait for Sam to get up but it quickly becomes obvious that he won't. He lies sprawled among the glass shards on the ground, eyes closed. A sluggish stream of blood drips from his temple to the concrete.

The girl Keeper huffs out a breath, rubbing her chest. Keeping her eyes on Sam, she pulls a cellphone from her pocket and presses a button before holding it to her ear. "Where the fuck are you?" she barks into it. "We've got them. Bring the damn van around."

There's no point trying to fight without Sam. The Keepers regard Jason cautiously but make no move to stop him when he sits down, crossing his legs on the concrete beside Sam, feeling the cold seep through his pants. There's nothing he can do but watch the blood drip into a growing puddle on the ground until the van arrives in the mouth of the alley, reversing in and stopping a few feet in front of them. The other two Keepers climb out.

"What'd you do to it?" the bearded one asks, nudging Sam with the toe of his boot, then bending down to retrieve the keys from Sam's drawstring. Jason fights the urge to growl at the Keeper like the animal they think he is.

"Damn thing's fast," the girl grumbles. "Had to hit it with a bottle."

"That one's more trouble than it's worth, if you ask me," the blond Keeper says, kicking at some broken glass.

"No one asked you," the girl snaps. "Let's get them in the van before someone sees us."

The two Keepers that have just arrived pick Sam up while the girl opens the back doors of the van. Jason gets up and gets in without prompting and finds Sam thrown roughly on top of him.

"You know," says the Keeper with the beard, leaning on one of the open doors. "I reckon he's right. We should just mark that one down for autopsy. It's too fast, like you said, and too smart. It managed to get your keys without you noticing."

The girl scowls, "It won't happen again."

The bearded Keeper shuts his door. "It won't," Jason hears his voice say firmly. "When we get back, we'll do the autopsy. We can't risk it escaping again."

The girl shuts her mouth but keeps her scowl. Jason looks at the pinched down-turned lips until she slams the second door and traps them in the cold metal darkness.

Autopsy. Jason's not sure exactly what it means but he knows no one comes back from it, knows that it ends in a big black bag, and even his door is locked while it's carried out.

"Hey."

Jason jumps a little at the faint whisper, feels Sam shift so he's not on top of his any more, or maybe he just fell with the sudden forward motion of the van.

"I still have... a key, took it off th' rest o'them. Here." Jason feels Sam's hands at his waist and starts to pull back in confusion before he realizes that Sam is clumsily pushing a key into the opening for the drawstring in his pants, the only place possible to hide something. "It's for Solitary. Recognised it."

Jason doesn't really understand what good it would be, unless, maybe he could slip out at night when the Keepers are asleep and lock himself back up in the morning.

Sam shifts again, and this time he hisses in pain. He stills quickly and Jason hears him take a deep breath in the dark.

"Told you to run," he mumbles, and Jason's not sure if he's complaining or complimenting. He says nothing and the silence drags, the rumbling of the engine fills the small space.

"You were really brave," Sam says, so that clears that up, but Jason shakes his head. He wasn't brave. He was scared and confused and ultimately helpless.

Sam must sense his movement, and his thoughts, because he says, "My brother, Dean, he once told me that being brave doesn't mean you're not scared. It means you decided something was more important then being afraid. You helped me. You didn't have to."

Sam goes quiet again, passed out maybe, and Jason adds up the minutes as they pass until the van stops. It took one hour and 52 minutes to get here, and if Sam's Dad and brother are following, they should be one hour and ten minutes behind them.

The Keepers open the doors and Jason shuts his eyes against the initial burst of light.

He opens his eyes and sees that Sam's leaning against the van's wall. He looks sickly pale, green-tinged against the blood that coats the side of his face, but awake and looking at the Keepers.

"Out," the bearded one orders, so Jason gets up and gets out of the van. The bearded Keeper reaches in and pulls Sam out by his arm. Sam staggers and for a moment looks like he might pass out or throw up but he manages to find his balance and keep his feet as the bearded man pulls him towards the front door of the facility. The young Keeper fiddles with a small grey box mounted to the wall by the door, lifts the cover and presses some buttons before opening the door and standing back so Jason, Sam and the bearded one can pass through.

"All right," the bearded man say to the group of Keepers who have followed through the door, "You two-" he motions to the young one and the blonde one "-go start the procedures, get the files, then start moving the subjects." He gestures to Jason, "Take that one, put it in Solitary until we're ready to move out."

The two Keepers head off, one grasping Jason's upper arm to steer him along. Most kids fight when they're being taken to Solitary but not Jason, even though he doesn't like the hand on his arm. He thinks about the key Sam tucked into his clothes, probably useless now, if they're moving to a new facility with new locks.

"You're with me," he hears the bearded Keeper say to the girl. "Lets do this autopsy quick and get out of here before someone comes."

Sam must know what autopsy means because Jason hears the sudden sound of struggle behind him. He turns at the foot of the stairs to see the Keepers trying to drag Sam to the Chair.

"No!" Sam cries, "No! Let me go! I didn't tell anyone, I swear, let me go!"

Panic brings strength, Jason knows this, but it doesn't bring it for long enough. He sees Sam's adrenaline rush leak out of him, struggles slowing and the first strap buckles over his wrist before the Keeper with his grip around Jason's arm pulls him forward and he forced to begin to climb the stairs.

There's an hour left before Sam's Dad and brother find them, and Jason thinks they're going to be too late.

XXX

Solitary is dark and cramped and suffocating after only ten minutes, but it's safe. He fiddles with the key Sam gave him and thinks that Sam needs more time, just a little bit more time, and Jason's the only one who can give it to him.

He thinks that he's already too close to Autopsy himself, a terrifying thought. Another step out of line and it could be the end, and on top of that, he doesn't even know what he could do to distract the Keepers for fifty minutes. He's scared that if he tries, it could all go wrong.

Then he thinks about Sam telling him that being brave means something is more important than being afraid, and this is important.

He slips the key into the lock and turns it before he has the time to rethink the action. The door slips open.

He still doesn't have a plan by the time he reaches the stairs. He can see Sam in the Chair, strapped down, still fully-clothed. It seems as if the Keepers aren't going to bother stripping him because they're already in their doctors' clothes; gowns and masks and gloves. The two Keepers that the bearded one ordered to begin procedures are no where in sight, probably still moving files.

He's too late, Jason thinks despairingly. The two Keepers are already holding medical equipment, a small knife and something that looks like a drill, and leaning over Sam. They're going to cut him open and Jason can't do anything.

Something bubbles in his chest, hot and molten. His head pounds with a sudden powerful rage that he has never felt before and he feels his whole body come alive with a tingle that is somehow both frightening and reassuring. He can't let this happen to Sam, he _won't_ let this happen to Sam. He doesn't even know what he's doing, it's like an instinct, halfway down the stairs and too far away to stop the descending blade, he throws his arm out and feels the hot thing inside him shoot out of his fingertips.

The knife is suddenly somehow embedded in the bearded Keeper's chest, torn from his grasp and turned against him with enough force that he stumbles back a step, and Jason knows it's because of him, because of the thing inside him that must be what the Keepers have been looking for all this time, but he's found it first.

The Keeper looks down at the blade, sunken so far in that there's only a tip of the handle sticking out, then his gaze moves slowly up to Jason, and he falls as if in slow motion, tipping backwards and Jason isn't good with expression but even he can see that the man's eyes are empty to life.

The girl spins around and Jason tries to fling whatever it is in his veins at her but she heads towards him, a snarl on her lips. Jason's head pounds harder as he tries again, but it's not working.

The girl reaches the bottom of the stairs and Jason's ready to turn and run but the door she's passing opens with a bang as it hits the wall and a man appears. Jason doesn't know where he came from but he's not a Keeper. His timing is perfect and he grabs the girl Keeper and has a gun to her head before Jason can even twitch.

"Not so fast, sweetheart," the man says. He's younger than he looked at first glance, maybe not even out of his teens, with short, spiky, blond hair and green eyes. He's earlier than expected but this must be Sam's brother.

"You're gonna tell me where my brother is or you're gonna feel my bullet rip you head off," Dean growls at the girl, pressing the gun so hard against her temple that her head tips to the side.

She doesn't have time to answer because Sam yells, "Dean! Dean!" and Dean spins around to follow the voice, taking the girl Keeper with him.

"Dad!" Dean calls over his shoulder, eyes on the back of the Chair that he's traced his brother's voice to.

An older man appears through the front door. The electricity must have been disabled somehow because there are no flashes of red and blue, no cracks in the air.

"Take her, she's one of them," Dean says, and thrusts the Keeper towards his father, glancing back just long enough to make sure she's been caught and restrained by his father, then he's sprinting towards the Chair.

"Dean!" Sam cries again, but Dean stops to crouch down and place his fingers on the neck of the Keeper Jason killed.

Jason looks back to see Sam's Dad leading the girl Keeper out the door, not quite sure what to do. A moment later, a bang echoes through the room, then two more. He decides to go after Dean, who's frantically unbuckling straps.

"It's okay, Sammy, I got you, shit," he's rambling. "Shit, what did they do to you, Sammy? What'd they do?"

Jason sees Dean's eyes flicking up and down, taking in Sam's bare feet and ragged white clothes, the scratch across his cheek and the dried blood that stretches down one side of his face from the bottle wound. Dean's eyes linger on the injury, or maybe on the short stubble of Sam's hair. It's like he's trying to fit the image of the Sam he remembers onto the Sam that's in front of him. "Jesus, Sammy."

"Get me out of this chair," Sam pleads, and Jason realizes that he's crying.

"Yeah, just a minute, Sammy, gonna get you outta here." Dean goes back to the straps. He's done the ones over Sam's ankles and the one at his waist. He takes the forehead strap off carefully and Sam hisses when he moves on to the ones at his wrists.

"Sammy?" Dean pauses, looking up at him.

"Think it's broken," Sam gasps, looking down at his left arm.

"Okay. It's okay." Dean unbuckles Sam's wrist with the utmost care. "Gonna get you all fixed up."

He unbuckles the one remaining strap and Sam practically throws himself into his brother's arms, his wounded arm held protectively to his chest, and Dean wraps him up in a hug that's somehow both fierce and gentle, dropping to his knees when Sam crumples.

"Hey, hey, it's all right," Dean murmurs, rubbing a hand up and down Sam's back. "I'm here now. Fuck, kiddo, I missed you so much... so fucking scared."

Sam sobs into his brother's chest. "They were doing experiments on me, took my blood and put all these things on my head, and they injected this stuff into me and I- I don't know, I don't understand."

"Shh," Dean hushes him, though Jason can see a slow tear edge it's way down Dean's face, "Everything's going to be okay, I got you, Sammy, I got you."

"All clear," a voice says, and they all look up. "Those four were all of them, it seems, I've dealt with three and that one-" Sam's Dad jabs a thumb at the bearded Keeper on the floor, "-ain't gonna give us any trouble."

He kneels down beside Sam and Dean. He doesn't try to separate them but puts a hand to the side of Sam's face, gently turning his head towards him.

"Hey, kiddo," he says, softer than Jason expected. Sam's Dad has a voice for yelling, he can tell, this big bearded man in a leather jacket. "It's okay now. They aren't ever going to hurt you again. Dean's gonna get you out of here. I'm just gonna clean up the mess, then I'll come meet you."

Jason isn't sure what mess he means. Maybe the Keeper on the floor, or the others, wherever they are.

"Were they...?" Sam asks hesitantly, looking at the bearded Keeper's body.

Sam's Dad shakes his head, "People. Sometimes they're the worst of all."

"There's other kids here," Sam mumbles, slumping a little. He looks like he's having trouble focusing on his father's face. "Heard them."

A frown creases Sam's Dad's face, "Didn't see them?"

Sam starts to shake his head but stops and closes his eyes for a moment. "Nuh, jus' Jason." He flops his good hand towards where Jason stands and Sam's father and brother look up at him as though they're seeing him for the first time.

"Jason," Dean repeats, not quite a question but Sam answers anyway.

"We were in a room together. He helped me get out. Dad, he's been here for almost two years."

"One year, eight months, nine days," Jason corrects. He rubs the back of his hand with his thumb, not sure he likes all the attention on him.

A glance passes between Dean and John, unreadable.

"No," Sam says, catching the glance and apparently reading more from it than Jason could. "No, Dad, we can't just leave him here. He saved my life."

They're planning on leaving him? Jason doesn't want to be alone. He thinks of Sam's hand grasping his as they ran, how much safer he felt, knowing that Sam was sticking with him.

"Sam," Dean says gently. "We can't take him with us. There must be someone looking for him, a home-"

"I'll make sure he's taken care of," Sam's Dad cuts in, "And all the rest."

Sam slumps, seeming to understand that this is an argument he can't win, but he looks up and meets Jason's eyes. "Jason... thanks, for..." Sam trails off and Jason knows that Sam knows what he did, that he moved the knife without touching it. "It'll be okay now," Sam finishes, and Jason somehow understands that he should never mention the knife to anyone, not that he was planning to.

"Okay, kiddo, lets get you out of here." Dean carefully shifts his grip on Sam, gathering him up in his arms, and stands.

"I'll meet you when I can," Sam's Dad says. "Go to the motel we passed on the edge of town. We'll figure out our next move when I get there."

"Yes, sir," Dean says, and heads toward the door, carrying Sam effortlessly.

Sam gives Jason a small wave with his good hand as they pass and Jason lifts his hand automatically.

He should say thank you. Sam saved him, and the rest of the kids here, after all, but Jason doesn't make a habit of talking and Dean's already heading out the door. He hopes that Sam knows what a difference he's made.

Sam's Dad disappears into the Keepers' room without a word. Jason goes and sits down on the bottom stair. He hears a car engine rumble to life and head off, and knows that Sam is gone and he'll probably never see him again.

He sits very still and waits for someone to take him to his mother.

END


End file.
